


Some Things Never Change

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Dean Winchester and Donna Hanscum [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Donna runs into her ex-husband, Doug.





	

 

“You sure about this?” Dean asked, his hand on her knee, squeezing it the tiniest bit.

“I don’t know,” Donna mumbled. 

She gnawed at her lower lip, her hands twisting restlessly in her lap. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. She hadn’t seen Doug since the sheriff’s retreat in Hibbing, hadn’t even talked to her ex since then. She couldn’t understand why, after all this time, she still felt so nervous about seeing him, about talking to him. He was nothing, he meant nothing to her, not anymore.

“Donna?” Dean took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

She smiled nervously at the hunter sitting beside her and straightened her skirt with her free hand. “I guess so,” she shrugged. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, look at me.” Dean nudged her with his elbow, drawing her attention from straightening the lines of her skirt to his eyes. “I’ll be right there beside you the whole time. You and me, right?”

“You and me,” she nodded. 

Dean wrapped a hand around the back of her head, pulling her to him, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before he opened the car door and helped her out after him. They stood by the side of the car, her hand in his, Donna staring up at the building in front of them, shifting from foot to foot.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d accepted the invitation to the annual law enforcement dinner, the once yearly gathering of the area’s sheriffs and their deputies. It just made her anxiety skyrocket, especially knowing that Doug would be there, watching her, judging her. And dragging Dean along was the worst thing she could have done, he was going to hate it.

Except he didn’t. He actually seemed to be having a good time, smiling and laughing at the inane jokes being made by people who would throw him in jail if they ever found out his true identity, fitting in in ways she’d never been able to. She envied him. She always felt weird and awkward at things like this, yet here he was, surrounded by the one group of people who should have made him act like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs and having a great time.

They’d been at the annual shindig for almost an hour and she still hadn’t seen Doug, in fact, she was feeling almost relieved, thinking he might not make an appearance this year, when he strolled through the door, a tiny brunette on his arm. His eyes drifted around the room, settling on her almost immediately, as if he’d been looking for her. He squared his shoulders and starting walking toward her, the hand of the very tiny, very thin, brunette held tightly in his, that smile that immediately put her on edge on his face.

Of course, Dean wasn’t anywhere near her, having stepped into the hall to take a call from Sam, promising to be  _ right back _ . She briefly contemplated hiding behind the pillar at the edge of the dance floor, hiding until Dean came back, but Doug had already seen her and he was walking directly toward her, like he’d narrowed his sights on his ex-wife and nothing would stop him until he said whatever was on his puny little mind.

“Donna!” Doug grinned, his smarmy, I’m-better-than-you-and-I-know-it grin. She’d seen that look more times than she cared to count both during their marriage and after their divorce. He eyed her up and down, his face pinched in concentration, assessing her, judging her. “Still trying to get in dating shape, huh?” He put his hands up in a mock boxing move, bouncing on his toes. He laughed, the sound grating on her nerves like fingers on a chalkboard, before turning to the woman beside him. “Julia, this is my ex-wife, Donna. Donna, this is Julia.” Julia lifted a hand in a brief wave.

“Doug,” Donna muttered, plastering a smile on her face. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to make it.” She shot a glance over her shoulder, looking for Dean.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Never miss a chance to hang out with my milkshake-loving ex, right?” He took a quick look around, then lowered his voice, trying and failing to sound sympathetic. “Couldn’t get a date, huh?”

Donna sighed heavily. Some things never changed. Where the hell was Dean?

Doug opened his mouth to speak again, probably another asshole comment about how he didn’t understand why she couldn’t get a date when her wide hips were perfect for making babies, or how she always had more cushion for pushin’ than anyone he knew, or one of the millions of other hurtful comments he’d always thrown at her, but instead he snapped it shut, just as a warm, huge hand slid across her back and around her waist. 

She leaned into Dean, her arm slipping around him, her hand fisting in the back of his jacket, holding onto him like he was her lifeline, staring up at him gratefully. His green eyes sparkled as he winked at her. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, holding her tight against his side before turning to Doug and holding out his hand.

“Name’s Dean,” he said evenly, though Donna could hear the snarl in the words, hear the veiled threat behind the calm demeanor.

“Hey, uh, aren’t you that FBI agent that was in Hibbing?” Doug asked, reaching for Dean’s hand.

“Agent Criss,” Donna offered helpfully. “Dean, this is my ex-husband, Doug. Doug, this is Dean.”

“Her boyfriend,” Dean smirked. “So, you’re Doug, huh?” He was practically growling. “I’ve heard about you.” He squeezed Doug’s hand, tightly, so tightly that Donna could see Doug flinching and trying to pull away as the muscles in Dean’s forearm flexed, straining against his suit jacket. She couldn’t help but smile.

“All good stuff, I hope,” Doug managed to mumble, a pained expression on his face.

“Not really,” Dean smirked, releasing Doug’s hand. She didn’t fail to notice the way he shook and flexed it, grimacing. “But, hey, the fact that you’re a dick worked to my advantage.”

Doug’s hands clenched in fists at his side and his face squished up in that way that let Donna know he was angry. Dean’s grin widened noticeably. Doug took a step forward, but Julia chose that moment to grab Doug’s arm.

“Let’s find our table, Doug, what do you say?” She smiled helpfully, tugging on his arm. 

Doug nodded, but he kept his eyes on Dean and Donna, obviously irritated.

Once Doug and his new girlfriend rounded the corner and headed for the buffet, Donna turned to look at Dean. His eyes softened immediately and a genuine smile crossed his face. He pulled her into the circle of his arms and kissed her softly.

“You good?” he whispered.

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Donna laughed nervously. “Never a dull moment, right?”

Dean rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Do you want to go? I’ll go get the car right now and we’ll blow this joint.”

She shook her head, her blonde curls flying around her face. “No, it’s okay, really. Besides, if we go, Doug wins. Let’s just get through dinner, then we can escape.”

* * *

Except leaving early turned out to be a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. Dinner seemed to drag on forever, followed by the annual recognition awards, which were really just a bunch of good old boy awards meant to exclude the female officers in the crowd, making them feel inadequate alongside their male counterparts. As if they didn’t already, what with their lower pay and menial assignments. It all just reminded her of why she didn’t usually attend these functions.

The only thing that made it bearable was Dean sitting beside her, so close his leg was pressed against hers, his arm thrown over the back of the chair, his fingers casually caressing her bare shoulder, making her stomach flip with need every few seconds. 

Donna could see Doug from her seat, see him stealing glances at her and Dean every couple of minutes, that pinched look still on his face. Even when he was called up on the stage to receive the last award of the evening, the Up and Comer Award, he didn’t take his eyes off of them, smirking and winking in Donna’s direction.

“I’ve had enough,” she finally whispered to Dean as Doug returned to his seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Gladly,” Dean replied. “I’ll go get the car.” He squeezed her knee and kissed her cheek before leaping from his seat and striding out.

Donna slipped out the side door, dragging on her jacket to keep away the early spring chill. She’d just pulled open the door and stepped outside when she heard Doug calling her name.

She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but his hand on her elbow pulling her to a stop was hard to ignore. She heard the steady purr of the Impala’s engine as she turned to wave off her ex.

“Seriously, Doug,” she sighed.

“I just wanted to say good night,” he grinned. “And tell you no hard feelings. I know it’s tough not getting any recognition for the work you do, but you’ll get there.”

“Do you think I do this job for the recognition?” she scoffed. “Jeezum Pete, Doug, you don’t know me at all.”

“I’m just saying it must be tough knowing you’ll never amount to more than a no-name, small town sheriff that no one knows or remembers,” Doug shrugged. 

More words were coming out of her ex-husband’s mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears. The next thing she knew she was rearing back and swinging, her fist connecting with Doug’s nose with a satisfying, resounding crack.

He stumbled back, his stupid plastic award hitting the ground, blood gushing from his nose. Donna would have taken another swing, except Dean’s hand closed around her wrist, stopping her.

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Take it easy.”

She hadn’t realized how heavily she was breathing, or how her vision was tinged an angry maroon color, or how her heart was trying to pound out of her chest until Dean’s soothing rumble broke through the haze of her anger. She took a step back, her back resting against a solid wall of muscle, Dean’s arm sliding around her waist, walking her backward.

“Christ, Donna, I think you broke my nose,” Doug screamed, the sound nasally and whiny. Blood poured through his fingers and dripped on the collar of his shirt. “What the hell?”

“You’re lucky that’s all you got,” Dean snapped. “God knows you deserve more. But, I think we’ll let it go at that. Hopefully you learned your lesson.”

He turned, his arms still around Donna and ushered her across the parking lot, shouldering onlookers aside as they made their way to the car. He opened the driver’s side door and pushed her in, climbing in behind her and slamming the car into gear. He tore out of the lot, tires squealing.

A mile or so down the road, Dean pulled into an empty lot, parking across several spots. He turned to look at Donna, one eyebrow raised.

“You okay?” he asked.

Donna’s heart was fluttering in her chest and her hands were shaking, but holy smokes she felt good, really good. She flew across the seat into Dean’s arms, kissing him repeatedly, giggling.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” Dean chuckled. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

“Holy heck, it felt so good,” she sighed. “So wrong, but so good.” She felt the blush creeping up her neck. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

Dean grabbed both of her hands, holding them tightly. “No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “Doug’s a dick. He’s had that coming for a long time. It’s only his nose. He’ll survive.”

Donna nodded and let Dean kiss her, her stomach twisting in anticipation. “Let’s go back to my place. Now.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smirked. “I don’t wanna make you mad.”

She punched him lightly on the arm and snuggled up next to him. “Watch it, mister,” she laughed.


End file.
